Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended

Chapter 3

22 September 2011

I'm in a daze as I walk back to my house. I come in through the kitchen door, and mumble a greeting at Mom. I'm aware on some level that she follows me into the living room, but it takes me a few seconds of actually staring at her for it to click.

"You were gone a long time today, sweetie," she says, watching as I slide my backpack onto the floor. She thinks I take walks when I'm actually being a weirdo and hanging out with Edward in a tree house. She slowly frowns. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I'm good." I'm able to successfully pull off a pair of gym shorts. Apparently.

I leave her there as I go to hang up my coat and kick off my shoes by the front door, but she's waiting when I come back in the room. "How was school?"

You have to admire her persistence. Every day she asks me this. Now, though, she says it without her usual crumb of hope – hope that maybe today I've made a new friend, maybe today I've been normal. I make an effort with my facial expression. Clearly I'm legitimately worrying her.

"It was fine. Just the usual." I sit down in front of the coffee table and pull out my homework. "What's for dinner?"

"Chicken," she says, and even when I smile up at her, she still watches me in this way she has. The way you stare at something that's not working the way it should, wondering what you can do to fix it.

I hate this look. My mother loves me, more than anything – I know this. But her constant search for my broken pieces got old about a decade ago. This is why I've never told her about Edward. I feel like she'd try to take ownership of it somehow.

"Cool. I need to do my homework," I say, turning away from her. As I settle down on the floor in front of the coffee table, I hear her sigh before she leaves.

I don't actually need to do my homework – I finished it before meeting Edward, and even then, I was basically just doing extra credit stuff. But the only thing that gets Mom off my back about being a friendless outcast is academia, and staying top of my class. It's been a useful tool these last few years.

I start writing out study-notes for the upcoming physics test, and it's a pretty good distraction. It's easy, but I have to focus, allowing me to sink into a mindless state of copying from my textbook and re-writing the notes I've taken in class.

Whenever my mind strays to Edward telling me I look good in gym-shorts, I shake it off and make a nice flow-chart, or diagram, or mnemonic list, because that is just way easier than wondering what the hell that means.

I mean, I'm not an idiot – theoretically, I know what it means when a guy stares at a girl. But in practice? In practice, I've never really imagined that I would be that girl. Or that Edward would be that boy to my girl.

I don't think I want Edward to be that boy to my girl. Do I? I don't think I should, because we're best friends, and if I mess with that, mess with what he represents in my life, I'm going to end up with no friend at all. That would be scary.

I blink, the diagram I've been copying coming into focus. It doesn't look right. With a groan, I rip the page out of my notebook and start again.

01000010 01110010 01100101 01100001 01101011

It's Saturday. The day I promised Edward we'd hang out like normal people, and I'd sit in his car and not be an idiot about it.

I am super ready to hang out. In public.

On a Saturday.

Outside, with people. Who have eyes.

In public.

Super-duper ready.

It's over breakfast that Mom tells me she and Dad are going to head down to the reservation, to have lunch with Billy and Sue.

"Do you want to come with us, sweetie?" she asks, looking at me with hopeful eyes over her cup of coffee. "I think Sue's boy – what's his name? I think he'll be there. You two could hang out. I know he's a few years younger than you, but I'm sure you'd have fun."

I shake my head, reaching for a box of cereal. "No, I, uhm…" Well-timed pause, hit the right level of fake nonchalance, and: "I'm actually hanging out with Angela. Today." I throw her a quick glance and then turn away to grab a bowl.

She sets her cup down. "You are?"

I think Mom would be vastly disappointed in me if she ever found out how well I've perfected the art of lying to her.

"Yeah."

She's silent for a moment, clearly absorbing the shock. She recovers as I sit down at the table. "But that's great, honey! Do you have any plans?"

"Yeah, she, uhm… Ben, from chess club, finally asked her out" – this is true, except it happened like two months ago – "and she asked if I wanted to go to Port Angeles with her. She wants to find something to wear for their date."

Mom is thrilled to bits. "That sounds nice. Oh, I'm so happy for you, honey, you're going to have a great time. Tell you what, I'll give you some money, so you can find something, too. A real girls' day out."

Dammit. Now I might actually have to go shopping. If I just come home with more comic books, she's going to kill me.

"Great. Thanks," I say, and she jumps up to go get her purse.

As luck would have it, Mom decides to go take a shower just before Edward's supposed to pick me up. I don't tell her I'm leaving, in case she decides to wait to say hi to Angela or something. I think she might notice Angela looks suspiciously like an 18-year-old boy.

Dad's watching TV in the living room, so I wait in the hall, peeking out the window every few seconds. This is so stupid. I can't believe I'm letting him pick me up. If anyone sees me in his car… God, I can't even think about that without wanting to throw up.

It's so irrational, but I can't help it. I know the only reason I didn't cancel was because it made him so happy when I agreed, but I don't think he understands exactly how uncomfortable I am right now. I'm not even in his car yet, and I'm already battling a severe case of paranoia.

Someone is going to see us, and then my carefully crafted social invisibility will go straight out the window.

The sound of a car engine rolls steadily closer. I straighten and glance outside as Edward's car starts to pull up to the curb.

"Angela's here, I'm going now! Bye, Dad!" I shout immediately, flinging open the door without waiting to see if he says anything back. Edward's barely come to a full stop before I'm hurrying down the patio steps and speed-walking across the front yard.

I see him leaning across to the passenger seat, smiling at me through the car window with a wave. When I reach him, I throw open the door, bundle inside, and slam it shut behind me with an exhale.

Edward stares at me, previous smile all gone. "Maybe don't break my car? Good morning, psycho."

"Shut up," I say. My voice is a little hissy. I stuff my bag down between my feet. "Morning. Can we go?"

"What's with the power walking? You in a hurry?" he says, nodding towards my house.

"No, I just wanna… go."

"Uh-huh."

"Start the car."

"Put your seatbelt on," he responds, a small smirk hiding on his face.

I click the hatch into place, widening my eyes at him. "Happy? Can we go?"

"Yeah, just a sec, I just need to stretch…" He sweeps his arms in a wide arc, groaning loudly. Reaching both hands towards the windscreen next, he cracks his knuckles before flexing his fingers. "Gotta limber up before a long drive, you know?"

"Edward."

"I'm a very responsible driver, Bella," he tells me seriously. "I take every precaution necessary."

"Okay, and that's great, but can we please go? We can't just sit here in a parked car. It's weird."

He makes a point of looking around the completely empty street. "Oh yes, all these people are going to think we're absolute morons. Everyone will see! Whatever shall we d—"

I punch his arm. "Don't make fun of me."

"Ow," he mutters, glaring.

"I can't help it, okay? I'm a socially reclusive nerd – obviously I'm going to have some problems with this stuff."

"Obviously," he says. "But I think your problems stretch a little further than just being scared people will see you."

"You know what? If you're going to be such a butthole all day, maybe I don't want to go to The Port."

I'm mostly joking.

He laughs. Douchebag.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Mom invited me to a really thrilling lunch down in La Push. Maybe I'd rather go to that than hang out with you."

He tries to keep a straight face. "Sounds like fun."

"More fun that sitting in a parked car."

"But I'm here. I'm a delight. You can't really say that about lunch in La Push with your parents, can you?"

I groan out a laugh, letting my head fall back. "Edward. Seriously. Can we go?"

"Say please."

"No. Drive the damn car."

"Okay, geez. Why didn't you just say you wanted to leave?"

"Edward, I swear to god."

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'll stop," he laughs, starting the car.

"Thanks."

"No problem." He checks all his mirrors before pulling out onto the street. "It took me two years to get you into this car. I'm not going to let you bail on me now."

"That's… kind of creepy."

"Yeah, I just heard it," he says, scrunching up his nose. "It didn't sound so kidnappy in my head."

"Few things do."

"Right." Driving down the street, he hums a tuneless melody for a moment. "So what did your Mom say when you ditched her and her lame La Push lunch?"

"She gave me money."

He glances back and forth between the road and me. "What? Why? You get paid for not doing boring shit?"

"No," I snort. "She thinks I'm going shopping. Fair warning, I might have to go shopping."

"Uhm, okay," he says, looking flummoxed. "Why?"

"Because I told her I was. With Angela."

His mouth opens and closes. "Okay. Again… why?"

"Well, I had to tell her something. I couldn't just be like, 'Hey, I'm going in to Port Angeles today' and then leave my truck at home." One of the vents in his car is aimed right at me. That's going to be annoying.

"Okay, fine, but why did you tell her you're shopping with Angela?" He pulls up at the stop-sign at the end of the street, taking a second to properly look at me. "Why not just say you're going with me?"

"Because she knows who Angela is, so it was just easier than explaining this," I say, waving my hand between us.

His eyebrows go up, and he pulls out on the main road. "This being…?"

"This. Us being friends," I say, shrugging. "And she already bugs me about why I don't hang out with Angela more, so I figured this would be a good two birds, one stone kind of solution."

He seems to be processing this. "Right."

I look out my window, slouching down in my seat. The roads are pretty empty, and I know that no one driving around this early is likely to recognize me in Edward's car anyway, but I don't want to help them by making my face easy to see. I should've worn a hat.

Edward picks up his phone, unlocking it before handing it to me. "Here," he says, keeping his eyes on the road. "Pick some music."

I scroll through his playlists, smiling every time I see something we have in common, or one of the bands he once told me I should listen to. The car is silent as I try to decide where to start. I glance at Edward; he looks very serious. I guess he really is a responsible driver. He's usually quite chatty, a good balance to my habit of being the opposite.

I finally pick something, and a small smile flashes across his face, but he doesn't look away from the road.

I put his phone down between us and lace my fingers together in my lap. I think of possible things I can say to get a conversation going, but now that we're in this enclosed space and I'm kind of forced to acknowledge him, my mind doesn't really want to do anything but talk about gym shorts.

Is he thinking about gym shorts? Is he wondering why he decided to tell me? Is he wondering why I haven't said anything about it yet? Maybe he's totally freaking out that I haven't said anything, which is why he's being so quiet and weird. Wouldn't I be freaking out? I'd definitely be freaking out.

Oh god, I don't have to say anything, do I?

I glance at him again, catching him just as he's looking up at his rear view mirror. He sees me looking, and throws a smile my way before turning back to the road, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music.

I can't. I can't say anything. It would be too awkward. If he wants to talk about it, he'll have to bring it up. He's the one who said it in the first place, so it seems only fair. Right?

Right.

I turn my face to look out the window again, watching the trees as we drive past.

Stupid gym shorts.

Thank you so much for reading.

Much love to Meg and Kim, who still read my stuff even when they think I'm joking.